


Fifteen Minutes

by orphan_account



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Fuck/Marry/Kill, M/M, Party Games, Teasing, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, this is just confused sexual tension: the rusical, violet being a sly little fucker and pearl just wanting to marry people for money
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The truth is that I can <i>tolerate</i> you. In small doses. No longer than fifteen minute periods."</p><p>Pearl checked her watch. "You've got twelve minutes left."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> two pearlet fics in close proximity and this one is to combat the absolute fuckery of angst that the other one is
> 
> and it's mostly dialogue oops sorry

 

After a long night doing the Battle Of The Seasons tour, most of the queens were just happy to get their heads down at night rather than stay up and be tired for the next day. Most of the chatter happened backstage, in the dressing rooms, either whilst putting on makeup or half-assedly taking it off, and so there never was much talk left for the living quarters. There were four queens confined to the bunks just past the living area with the sofas and TV, at the back of the lower deck, and the rest took up the beds on the top floor, where they wouldn't have the buzz of a talk show as background noise or the constant whirring of wheels within twenty meters of their heads (albeit through multiple layers of metal and automotive parts).

Violet and Pearl were the only two left sprawled across the sofas at the front, the former idly checking her phone for no reason in particular whilst the other peered out of the window with tired eyes. Despite them being best friends, there was no talk between them - although that was possibly better. That they were so comfortable with each other that silences weren't awkward. However, Pearl being Pearl, decided that something needed to be done about this.

"Vi," she said, and when the brunette didn't respond, she tried again. "Violet. _Violet_. Violet Chachki. Bitch face."

Violet only looked up at the last nickname, and Pearl grinned. "What?" she hissed, eyes flicking downwards to finish something on her phone.

"I'm bored."

"And you want me to do what about it, exactly?"

Pearl shrugged. "I dunno. Let's talk."

Violet gestured to the space between them as if to prove a point. "We are. Right now. This is talking."

"Fuck off, you know what I mean. Proper talking. Like a conversation."

The brunette rolled her eyes before pocketing her phone and adjusting herself to properly face Pearl, rather than lay diagonally across the sofa. "About...?"

"You're determined to make this so difficult that I give up, aren't you? Bitch," Pearl smirked, muttering the last word quieter but just loudly enough for the recipent of the insult to hear. The corners of Violet's lips turned upwards as Pearl's did, and she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back. "But I'm not going to. You've been stuck with me for this long. Me and my smoking habits and lax attitude. No going back now."

"I missed the 30-day refund guarantee."

"You wouldn't change me. Don't lie."

"No, a lie would be that I completely and unconditionally love you." Pearl pouted. "The truth is that I can _tolerate_ you. In small doses. No longer than fifteen minute periods."

Pearl checked her watch. "You've got twelve minutes left." Her action elicited a simple eye roll from the other. "We should play something. Truth or dare. Something tween-girl-sleepover-ish like that."

"Because we're totally tween girls at a sleepover."

"You say that like we aren't."

A sudden loud grunt sounded from the back of the bus - someone snoring, most likely - and both of them immediately whipped their heads around to look, as if they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't. With the way Pearl lowkey hoped that their games would go, they might as well have been. Still, nobody surfaced, and the two relaxed, even though there was no reason for them to be tensed in the first place.

"No truth or dare, then?" Pearl asked.

"I never said that," Violet teased, giving Pearl a look with her head tilted to one side. The other's grin widened, and she made herself comfortable opposite Violet. "Truth or dare's lame, though. Pick something naughtier."

"...Strip poker?"

"Do I look like I have a deck of cards on me right now, Pearl? Do I?"

"I mean, your ego's big enough to fit one."

Violet gave her a brief sarcastic smile. "Funny. Although since your ass is obviously big enough to fit your head up it, you're the one with more card-carrying potential here, bitch."

"Touché, Chachki. Touché," Pearl replied, with just a hint of a smile and a glimmer in her half-lidded eyes. It was the silliest, stupidest thing to mock-fight over, but that's all it ever was: something stupid. They'd never really had major blowouts, and both intended to keep it that way. "Alright, no truth or dare. What's that other one? 'Fuck, marry, kiss'?"

"I think it's 'fuck, marry, kill', actually," Violet corrected.

"Well, then, as the fucking sleepover planner here with your extensive knowledge of shitty party games, you start."

"Fine. FMK: Sharon, Ginger, Fame."

Pearl chewed on her lip thoughtfully, processing her choices. As far as she was aware, none of the three were currently occupying any of the four beds at the back of the lower deck, and so she was less concerned about Violet's refusal to whisper. Before she can answer, however, Violet cuts in. "With reasons."

"Uhh...okay. Fuck."

"Fuck who?"

"I was thinking, shut up. Fuck Sharon, because she looks like she'd be freaky. It matches. Marry Fame, then immediately divorce her and take half her money."

"So kill Ginger? Harsh."

"No. Travel back in time and then kill her before the season finale so I have a better shot at the crown," Pearl smirked.

The brunette laughed, albeit slightly belatedly. "I still would've won."

"Shut up. FMK..." Pearl looked around as she drew the 'ay' sound of the 'k' out, possibly to look for reminders of who she was actually on tour with. Hey, she'd had a drink or two. The least memorable ones she was guaranteed to blank on the names of. "...Alaska, Jinkx, Ginger."

"Oh, fuck. I'd fuck them all, are you kidding me?" Violet hissed. Pearl gave her a pursed-lipped, raised-eyebrow look, as if to say 'answer the fucking question'. "Fuck Alaska, 'cause she's Alaska. Marry Jinkx and leech off all that fucking money she's making from musicals and shit-"

"Vi, you literally won $100k."

"So? It goes fast when you have drag to buy. Anyway, that leaves...Ginger. Kill. Wow, Ginger's really getting a raw deal here." Pearl nodded in agreement, and then reached across rather clumsily to the side table to a half-empty bottle of Pepsi that had been left to solidify into a sticky mess in the midday heat. She shook it, weighing up whether she should drink it, whether the risk of a terrible taste and bad stomach for the next day was worth a few moments of relief from a dry mouth. She eyed Violet, and Violet eyed her back, giving her a little head shake with a look that said 'your choice'. Choosing to drink it anyway, Violet continued. "Your turn. My turn? My turn to do you."

Pearl winked mid-gulp. Violet batted her eyelashes.

And that was all she needed. "Fuck, marry, kill: Trixie, Katya, me."

Apparently, Violet could still surprise Pearl, because she recoiled at the question, leaning slightly backwards as if something had been thrown at her. "I mean, I already fucked Trixie over by sending her home on Drag Race."

"That's not the question. Answer it."

"Fine. Kill Trixie, marry Katya, and that leaves a big hearty _fuck you_."

"Ha ha. Funny. Great. Original."

"No? Alright, then. Fuck Katya, marry Trixie, and kill you for that under-appreciation of my jokes." A pause. "And also so I can take a sweet cut of your winnings."

Another pause, this time from Violet. "If you married me, you could have some."

"No thanks."

"Why do you need money, anyway? My rates aren't that high."

"Vi, if I'm killing you, it'll be for the money and _not_ so I can fuck your corpse for free, I can assure you of that."

 "You'd fuck me alive though, right?" Violet asked, in a more direct and abrupt way than either of them would've liked. Pearl, again, recoiled at the question, and tilted her head to one side as if she was considering her options. No answer was correct here, and of course, both were guaranteed to lead to something else regardless. The only thing she had to weigh up was whether she wanted that something else to be more conversation or a handjob on the sofas, most likely.

"Yeah, sure," she said finally, in a more passive tone than should be applied for admitting you'd fuck your best friend.

(She favoured the handjob.)

At first, Violet did nothing, opting to maintain the eye contact. Pearl was a known master of maintaining awkward and prolonged eye contact, but there was no 'is there something on my face' comment delivered this time, nor another equally as witty line. Instead, in a sudden display of confidence - which, admittedly, wasn't new for Violet but still took Pearl by surprise - the brunette moved forward in one swift stand and draped herself around Pearl's legs; one knee on either side of a slightly confused Pearl's hips.

"Hello," Pearl mumbled, instinctively resting her hands on Violet's tiny waist.

"God, you look good from this angle," Violet muttered, running a hand through Pearl's mop of dirty blonde hair. It remained untamed, now resting in a slightly frizzy mess. "You look good from any angle, but _fuck_."

"Thanks," Pearl said, sounding unsure of herself. "Your chin looks pretty great, I guess."

"Look up." Not one to go against Violet's orders (ever), Pearl tilted her head upwards, and Violet pressed a finger underneath her chin to lift her head just a little more and seal the gap for a kiss. It wasn't at all unusual for the two to casually make out, but they really were pushing the boundaries of staying unsuspected by doing it in the communal area of the tour bus, near both the toilet and four other supposedly sleeping queens. If anything, it just pandered to Violet's slight exhibitionism kink, which was one of the reasons why she initiated it in the first place.

The kiss was long and messy, with Violet occasionally biting down on Pearl's lower lip and with Pearl doing what she did best: absolutely nothing. That was fine by Violet as long as she got to take the lead. Gently breaking the kiss but leaving her forehead pressed to Pearl's as she looked her in the eye, she dragged her hand down to the hem of Pearl's shirt and then back up, sliding it underneath and against her bare chest all while she gave her that cheeky little smirk that she knew would get her everywhere.

She felt Pearl lean into the touch, but then kept the hand nestled into her hair exactly where it was and gave it a little tug, tilting Pearl's head back even more in an obvious display of control.

"Ow," Pearl mumbled, not caring whether she let on that she liked it.

"I _said_ I could only tolerate you in fifteen minute doses," Violet hummed, running her nails down Pearl's stomach. It kind of hurt for her to even do what she was considering, but it was all in fun and she eagerly anticipated whatever payback Pearl would be interested in dealing. Her fingertips found themselves at her belt, lightly ghosting over her crotch as she grazed her teeth over the nearest bit of skin under Pearl's eye. She should hold people's hair back more often - it's so much more fun that way.

And then, just as suddenly as it arrived, she withdrew her hand from Pearl, leaving only her hand fisted in her hair as she spoke: "and your time's up, bitch."

For the first time in Violet's short-ish lifespan, she thought, this was the first time she'd ever seen legitimate shock on Pearl's face. The look on the blonde's face could both freeze Violet and _also_ heat her up, apparently, because that already seemed to be working. But no matter how tempting it was to keep going, she had to keep up the act - after all, she'd already said her finishing line. That's it. Draw the curtains, give a round of applause, throw roses, but don't keep the show going.

Never too late for an encore, though, right?

 "Vi, no," Pearl whined, and hearing her half-beg almost made Violet give in. Almost. This close. "Don't. Please."

"Too late." She slid off of Pearl's legs - ungracefully, inelegantly, all of the ways that she wouldn't ever want to move seemed to air themselves in this awkward clamber off the blonde, and that may be due in part to Pearl's hands gripping her hips like they belonged to her. They stopped her from moving any further, temporarily, and Pearl was pretty strong when she needed to be.

"You're a bitch," Pearl said, still latched onto her.

"Maybe you should've stuck with your original choice of fucking me."

"You know I didn't even mean it like that."

"Even though you did."

"Even though I very much did and that was the easiest fucking choice of the entire game, Chachki. You know it was," Pearl said, almost spitting the words out. The word 'Chachki' seemed to be the main receiver of the bitter tone.

"Right here on the sofas? Surrounded by everyone-fucking-else?" Violet replied, prying Pearl's hands from her. It didn't take much, but she knew that she didn't really want to let go. Which, she guessed, was the whole point. Leave them wanting more.

"I'll take a fucking rain check."

"You sound like a desperate whore."

Pearl didn't respond, just narrowing her eyes even more as Violet dusted herself off and straightened her clothes, ready to retreat to her upstairs bunk. This wasn't so much a regular occurrence, but it definitely wasn't the first for them. Having come so close to sex before, neither of them seemed too reluctant to push past that point. It was just a matter of when, where, timing, and all the other stupid shit that seemed irrelevant until it came down to it.

'Friends don't do friends', they'd said, until they were giving each other blowjobs in hotel rooms in between tour dates. 'Friends don't do friends', they'd agreed, until they'd smoked and got high in the dressing rooms of bars and grinded against each other to the heavy bass.

'Friends don't do friends', they'd said, until said friends did said friends and then everything just became fucking confusing.

 With another swig of the day-old Pepsi, Pearl stood up to follow Violet, the one who she oh-so-loved to hate at that particular moment.

"You're an asshole," she muttered to the brunette in front of her, watching her taunting strides towards the stairs. The way her hips swayed with every step, whether intentionally or unintentionally - she was probably just trained at that point and used to those movements. It really didn't help Pearl's godforsaken boner.

"They say you are what you eat," Violet said, and then, with a little twirl around the support pole on the stairs and a step up, "maybe next time I'll tolerate you for twenty minutes and you'll finally get to find that out."

 


End file.
